


Shattered

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Modern Mayhem [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Gen, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mairon listens to conversations, hoping for news of Melkor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Mairon -- Sauron
> 
> Curumo -- Saruman
> 
> In this AU the Maia are (mostly) all the children of whatever Ainu they canonically serve. So Curumo is Mairon's elder brother, Mai has a little bit of middle child syndrome.
> 
> I haven't figured out how Aiwendil (Radaghast) fits in, but he's probably a cousin.

When the door was answered after his bedtime, he knew exactly who was there. After waiting for them to sit down, he slipped from bed and padded across the room, grateful that his socks made almost no sound on the wooden floor.

Mairon leaned on the door, pressing his ear flat against the crack. Down the hall he thought he could hear his brother moving around in his room. He knew it was only his imagination however, Curumo wasn't there – he was off at college, being the important brother; the better son – Mairon was stuck at home, in the drudgery of high school.

In the living room downstairs he could barely hear voices, those of his parents and their friend Manwë. Mairon knew it was too much to hope that Manwë had brought his brother along, Aulë considered Melkor to be too wild, too mad to be around his son. Slowly he stood, and grasped the door handle. Slipping quietly into the hall, he was, as usual, grateful that Curumo wasn't just across the hall to tattle on him.

He slid in his socks to the top of the stairs, peering down and straining to hear the conversation.

“He's doing well enough,” Aulë was saying. “He misses his brother more than he’ll say.” Hidden in the shadows by the banister, he could see Manwë’s long fingers tapping on the arm rest of the chair. Aulë was walking the room, returning from the kitchen with two glasses of wine, one of which he sat by Manwë, the other he carried to sit by Yavanna.

“It's only natural,” Manwë said, “he's always been a social child.”

Mairon scowled, realizing they were talking about him. _Stupid adults_ , he thought bitterly. At that he almost turned around and returned to his room, but his mother’s next question stopped him.

“Speaking of siblings,” Yavanna asked, taking the wine glass from her husband and taking a sip. “How's your brother?”

Aulë grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like the curses forbidden to his sons, asking, “Who cares?” Mairon almost giggled. _I do_.

“I do! And I'm certain Manwë does,” Yavanna said calmly. Not for the first time Mairon was reminded of how different his parents were, his mother was small and frail, pale skinned and fair haired. Aulë was everything she wasn't; tall and broad, with dark skin and curly hair that he kept cropped short. Pale Curumo had taken after their mother; Mairon was a messy mix of the two, short like his mother, with his father’s hair, and lightly tanned skin.

Manwë laughed softly. “Sometimes I wish I didn't. He's…. well enough.” The man shifted, sighing softly. Mairon had to strain even more to hear his next words. “I wish he'd let me help him. He's somewhere downtown, Tulkas saw him the other day, but I haven't seen him recently.”

 _Downtown?_ Mairon thought. _I bet I can get there_. He grinned, already plotting his route to and from school the next day, that would let him explore as much as possible.

“I know,” Yavanna said. Aulë said nothing.

For a long time there was an awkward silence, then Aulë asked, “How's your son?”

Mairon rolled his eyes, having no desire to listen to them chatter about how perfect Eönwë was, he stood and slipped away. Distracted by thinking of finding Melkor, he didn't notice the lamp until he crashed into it, glass falling around him. His feet slid out from under him, and he felt glass stab into his palms. He laid on the floor a moment, dazed, before hearing the thump of feet on the stairs. Mairon couldn't move before his father was grabbing him and lifting him clear of the shattered glass, and dusting him off.

“MaiMai are you alright?” his mother asked, hurrying up behind Aulë. She peered down at him, emerald eyes filled with fright.

 _It's not my fault you move the furniture constantly_. Mairon said nothing, clinging tightly to his father and shaking. Aulë set him gently on the floor as Manwë reached the top of the stairs. His sharp eyes met Mairon’s frightened ones for a moment, flickering over him curiously and then to the lamp, and finally, the top of the stairs where he had been listening.

 _I’m dead_. Mairon took a shaky breath. “I'm fine!” he snapped, pushing away his father who was still brushing glass from his hair. “I was getting a drink and I didn't see it and-“ He faked panic, forcing himself to hyperventilate, knowing his father – and most likely his mother – would believe him.

“It's alright,” Aulë promised, patting Mairon’s head. “Don't worry about the lamp-“

“You're hurt!” Yavanna had seen the cuts on her son’s hands when he had pushed at Aulë, and swooped forward, grasping his bony wrists. “Oh little one!”

“Does he need a doctor?” Manwë’s voice startled Aulë and Yavanna, who had been absorbed enough in caring for their son that they had forgotten their visitor. He was already pulling his phone from his pocket.

 _He's testing me. He wants to see how badly I'll play hurt._ Mairon looked away. “I'm fine!” he whined. “It's nothing!” In truth his palms stung and the sight of his own blood alarmed him. But he just wanted Manwë to leave.

Manwë moved forward, kneeling beside Mairon, admit the shattered glass, and taking his hands. He produced a small flashlight from his pocket, hanging off his keys, and shone it on his bloodied palms. “Nothing terrible,” he said after a moment. “I don't see any glass in the wounds.”

“Can I go back to bed?” He looked hopefully to his father. _Manwë please gooooo._

Yavanna smiled. “Alright dear, let me bandage it that so you don't bleed, and wash it out a bit. Aulë can you clean up this?.” She gestured to the shattered remains of the lamp as she stood, helping Mairon up.

“Of course.” Aulë winked at his son as Yavanna led him away. “Chin up.”

Mairon nodded brightly, hiding his concern at leaving Manwë with Aulë. He wasn't certain if the other man would tell his father his suspicions about the trip to the bathroom or not. However, Yavanna led him out of their sight, taking him into the bathroom with whispered reassurances that it wouldn't hurt too terribly. Mairon relaxed when he heard Manwë wish his father a good night before slipping from the room.

By the time Yavanna finished fussing over him, the shattered glass and smeared blood had been cleaned, and Aulë tossed him playfully over his shoulder and carried him to his room. “Sleep well,” his father said, winking as he shut the door.

Mairon rolled onto his side and resisted the urge to snap that he wasn't a little kid. Instead he smiled and agreed, snuggling into his blankets. When the door shut he grabbed a notepad from in his desk and scribbled, _Tulkas saw Melkor downtown_.

Despite what his parents said, Mairon didn't think the man was evil, and he wanted to get to know him better. He hid the pad in his nightstand and curled up, drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon goes in search of Melkor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late. Don't hate me.

Mairon  smiled as his mother fretted over him the next morning, insisting that he was fine, his hands didn't need to be checked again, and that he needed to hurry or he would be late to school. That last argu ment won her over, she nodded and shooed him out the door, kissing his cheek and telling him to have a good day. He always walked to school, it wasn't far, so he set off as though he was heading toward his school, then cut sideways and into an alley. The bus stop was just  ah ead , and a bus went into  downtow n  every hour. 

He was waiting when it pulled up, calmly dropping change into the till and walking to the back of the bus as though he belonged, as though it was perfectly normal for a young teenage boy to be wandering the streets on his own. He sat, tightened his coat, and fiddled with his phone, playing a racing game as he waited for the bus to arrive downtown. Once in the heart of the city he hopped off the bus, looked around, and realized he had no idea where he was going. Melkor was downtown (or had been) but the city was a large place, and there was  absolutely  no telling in what part of the downtown district he would be in.

Mairon considered  what he knew. Manwë hadn't seen him, so he probably wasn't near the  business  district where the man worked and lived, and Tulkas was usually at the police station, or in that general area. But  Mairon  also knew it was too risky for Melkor to be that near the station (and he didn't want to go there either, knowing Tulkas wouldn't hesitate to throw him into a  crusier  and take him to school if he was caught) so where could he be? 

Then he remembered the old park Melkor had mentioned to him a few times, and set off at a brisk pace. Melkor had always warned him about traveling too quickly, or with too much purpose. "They'll suspect you," he'd warned, "if you seem to have too much or too little to do. Never run unless you're wearing jogging clothes." 

He made himself appear to be enjoying a brisk morning stroll, he was big enough to pass for a college student, so he was met with no stares as he went. Once at the park he hopped the gate rather than bothering to open it, and stood looking around. People didn't come there much, rumor had it that a child had perished there many years ago (in an accident) and now parents were afraid to take their own kids there. It was perfectly dark and gloomy with a story to match, just the kind of place Melkoe would love. 

Mairon  walked to the swings, dropping his bag on the ground and sitting down, pushing off slowly and  beginning to swing. Suddenly he found himself wondering – yet again – what exactly he hoped to accomplish. There was a small chance of finding Melkor, and much greater chance of getting into a heap of trouble. Suddenly the swing stopped moving, strong arms wrapped around him from behind, and a familiar voice asked, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Melkor. His heart leapt a little to hear him speak, and he turned and smiled, replying, "Maybe," with a wink. Melkor let go, and the swing shot forward. Caught by surprise  Mairon  fell to the ground, and before he could get up Melkor was pulling him up and sitting him back on the swing, facing him this time. "You know,"  Mairon  said, smiling. "My birthday is next month, then even the law can't make me go to school."  Mairon  brought up his impending coming of age for entirely different reasons though.

"Oh?" Melkor asked. He would have fit well on the set of a 1920s, Prohibition Chicago Gangster movie. Melkor was all class – button down shirt, long but well cared for hair, and (occasionally) a trim black hat.  Mairon practically drooled  over him. "Interesting ."

Mairon  felt sick, his heart pounding suddenly in his chest. Did he bore Melkor? Was he nothing more than a pest? He smiled, forcing a confident face, and looked up at Melkor. "Yes," he said. "I want in."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Melkor ran a gang. Any idiot knew it, but the hard thing was proving it. Melkor raised an eyebrow. "In?" he asked. "I can't imagine what you mean by that."

He smelled of cigar smoke (ordinary cigarettes weren't good enough in his mind) and  Mairon  found that scent intoxicating. "On, you know," he said, bouncing nervously and letting his voice trail off.   


Melkor looked around, then his eyes flashed back to  Mairon . "Follow me."

He jumped from the swing, grabbing his bag  and saying, "Of course!" 

Melkor was waiting for him, just inside the doorway of the building that overlooked the park. He let  Mairon  pass him, then shut the door softly.  Mairon  barely had time to process that the door had closed before he was slammed into a wall with hands tightening around his neck. 

He choked,  struggling  for air as his windpipe was closed. "Don't you know better than to call attention to things that ought not have attention brought to them?" Melkor growled. "Were you a lesser man, I would kill you know."

Mairon  didn't think that would be a bad way to go, with Melkor's hands on him, but before he could finish the thought the man had pulled back, and landed a stinging blow to Mairon's head. "So keep your mouth shut and your tongue in place if you'd like to keep them." 

The teen's legs felt weak, and would have given way completely had Melkor not grabbed him and led him to a chair, sitting him down and rubbing his back, letting him cough and splutter to regain his breath. Once he could breathe again he looked at Melkor. "Anything."

Melkor kissed his cheek and said, "I know." He stood, shoving Mairon's bag at him and pressing him toward the door. "Stay out of trouble. I don't want to see any sign of you until you've graduated."

"Graduated!?"  Mairon  yelped.

"I endorse education," Melkor replied, shoving him out the door with another slap, this one to his backside. 

Mairon  turned just in time to see the door slam shut and Melkor  disappear  from view. He wandered toward the bus stop, practically glowing. He had never  imagi ned  having such a reception. It was certainly a pity he was going to have to finish school, but after that he seemed to have  guaranteed  acceptance into Melkor's circle.

Mairon  wasn't paying attention to where he was going, so when he wandered out in front of the police station it was as big of as surprise to him as it was to Tulkas. The chief of police was standing in the glass windows by the street, holding a coffee in one hand, flipping through a  news paper  with the other. He looked up to see  Mairon , and very slowly lowered the coffee to the table. Then he pointed to  Mairon , then to the floor beside him. 

Mairon  gulped, but knew there was no escaping him. Very slowly, as though he might prolong his fate, he walked to the door, opening it and slipping inside, trying not to wince at the sound the bells above the door made. Tulkas rolled his newspaper into a  cylinder  as he waited for  Mairon . 

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Tulkas asked quietly.  Mairon  didn't like when Tulkas was quiet. He was supposed to be a loud, rambunctious man, but when he was quiet  Mairon  wanted to curl up and hide somewhere.

"Shouldn’t you be patrolling?" he  retorted . It was the meeting with Melkor that did it, he reasoned. He had yet to come down from the intoxicating high inspired by the gang lord's presence. 

Tulkas was not amused. "You think I should be  patrolling ? Fine." He grabbed  Mairon's  backpack as he passed him, pulling him out to his police car. "Let me go!"  Mairon  protested. Tulkas did, and the sudden loss of force  caused  Mairon  to tumble to the ground, landing in a disgruntled heap on the pavement.  "What was that for?!"

"You asked to be let go of." Tulkas was more gentle this time, helping  Mairon  to his feet and into the passenger seat of the car. 

Mairon sighed . It was not completely untrue , but then again, Tulkas didn't have to be so rude about it. "Of course," he muttered, looking down at his feet with a scowl. 

Tulkas watched him as he drove, then sighed. " Mairon  why aren't you in school?" he asked.  Mairon  looked away. Tulkas groaned. " Mairon ," he scolded. "Just talk to me. You used to be such a good student, but recently your father tells me you've been getting into all kinds of trouble."

Mairon  shrugged. "I just don't get the point of school anymore." 

"You're a senior," Tulkas replied. " It's  normal." 

"Then why does everyone act like it’s the end of the world? I've missed a few classes? So what? Everyone does it, but when I do it they freak out because, 'its not what Curumo would have done.' I didn't know I needed a fucking W.  W.  C.  D.  bracelet."

He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Tulkas mouthing W.  W.  C. D. and chuckle softly when it dawned on him. " Mairon , no one's asking for perfection."

"It sure seems like they are."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Tulkas said after a moment. "I really wish you would let us help you." 

Mairon  didn't say anything. He didn't need them to help, he needed them to stop trying to help. Then he would be better, and everyone would be happy. 

"We're trying to help," Tulkas reminded him. 

Mairon  pulled his backpack to his chest and glowered out the window, ignoring the other. Tulkas  sighed  and finally fell silent, focusing on the road. When they drove past his school Mairon  finally realized that something was amiss. "You missed the turn," he said. 

"We’re not going to school. I’m taking you home."

Mairon  wanted to go home even less than he wanted to go to school. "I need to get to school," he muttered, looking out the window.

Tulkas shook his head. "If you were so determined to get to school you would have gone hours ago,  Mairon ," he scolded. "I'm taking you home, you need to talk to your parents and get this figured out."

"I can't," he muttered, knowing his parents would be livid with him. "Take me to school."

"No," Tulkas replied, giving him a hard look. "You're going home and taking care of this."

"I don’t need to!" he shouted. 

Tulkas suddenly pulled over to the side of the road, which thankfully was in a subdivision, and therefore people parked there all the time. "Please calm down," he said, turning to face  Mairon .

"No!"

He sighed. "Can you promise to be truthful with me, just for a moment?"

Mairon stared  at him for a moment, then nodded. "Sure."

Tulkas' gaze remained steady as he asked, " Mairon  are you afraid of your parents? Have they ever harmed you?"

Mairon  blinked. Certainly he didn't like to cross his parents, it wasn't pleasant, but he knew  immediately  what Tulkas was hinting at. For one tantalizing moment he considered saying yes, yes they had harmed him, just to get attention. But then he thought of the trouble that would put them all (including  himself ) through, and changed his mind. "Of course not!" he snapped. "You're fucking stupid."

Tulkas relaxed. "Anytime someone is afraid to go home I have to ask," he said, pulling back out into the road.  Mairon  thought that was a stupid policy, but he didn't say anything, just hung onto his back as Tulkas finally pulled into his  driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need a crack fic involving a "What Would Curumo Do?" bracelet now.


End file.
